In a slow dance, we're proceeding, into this ritual... of stillness.
As if no fate... is waiting, we are down... on our knees, melting down...
With closed eyes... we see it, this downfall... implacable.
As if no prayer... may save us, in calm... we mourn...
Crumbling...
Which truth does stand for all... now?
Let us stare... to nothing.
The hopeless ones... are gathering, so please... bring flowers, decomposing...
So, I entered the room, with my cold knife I murdered all of you, for I love you more than myself